That moment when you’re talking your 4-year-old through the process in how to go down the loose gravel embankment on her bike; and your 2-year-old decides to break free from your “Wait” command and
just show her.
Then that split second reaction that has you barreling down the hill after him- having flung you stroller to the side- screaming “SAMMY SAMMY! Dear God! SAMMY!”.
Your so pregnant you WILL your legs to go together and run, because unless Sammy turns his bike with the trail he will go over the rock bank at the bottom- into the rushing spring creek.
But God is faithful and Sammy wobbly steers his runner bike from the edge and straight down the narrow path to chase after his big brother.
Then there is that other moment.
When you gather your deserted buggy and try to catch up- but your 6 month pregnant body makes you pay for your little run. Your pelvis thinks its broken and proceeds to make your legs stick out of the sides of your body as you waddle and wobble down the path after your speedy toddler.
My 2-year-old is officially faster than me, and I don’t stand a chance.
My 3 children wait up ahead, for ME to catch up… Sniff sniff